


find a way

by fromthehillbythelake



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Angst, F/M, what else would we expect from ko lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6854359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthehillbythelake/pseuds/fromthehillbythelake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She stands about five feet away, lithe form posed over the desk so that her skirt hikes up her thighs and he can see the pull of her stockings.  He shouldn't be doing this.  Here, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	find a way

**Author's Note:**

> -probably my dirtiest work lmao. from my tumblr to here :)

-x-

 

She stands about five feet away, lithe form posed over the desk so that her skirt hikes up her thighs and he can see the pull of her stockings.  
  
They’re black; opaque and taut and regulation, but tonight…tonight he eyes a patch of creamy white thigh escaping through an unfortunate hole and he stands before he has time to change his mind.  
  
“They’re ripped,” he says.  
  
Akane turns to look at him, and he thinks he catches the slightest shift of her shoulders.

“Mm?”

“Your stockings,” he says hoarsely.  His throat’s become very dry.  
  
“Oh!” she says, perching back to pull at the fabric.  “Shoot.”  
  
Her thighs are tight together and her hips are jutted out and she’s biting her lip trying to get a better look.  It’s a lethal combination.  
  
“You should…” he starts, moving forward.   _Take them off.  Let me peel them off…_

“Mm?” she says again.  
  
If she leaned back down, he could have her on the desk right now.

   
  
Right

  
now.

   
  
_Idiot_ , he chastises himself.  
  
“There,” he says.  He doesn’t point because his fingers would hover about an inch from her skin.  
  
“Where?” she asks quietly, and it’s more dare than question. 

  
  
Dares came in all sorts though.

   
  
“Right…”

_Are they really doing this?_

  
Is it finally happening?  Does she want it?  Does he care?  
  
He takes a step forward, aching.  
  
“Here,” he says against her neck, moving close so that his stomach presses against her back.  He snakes his hand down till the pads of his fingers reach the exposed skin, knowing he shouldn’t be doing this and hoping that she’ll stop him.  

She stiffens.

  
  
He stops. 

  
  
He imagines how it would look to a passer-by.  But his disgust isn’t strong enough to make him walk away.  
  
Her breaths are steady but her heart is thundering and he feels the same jolt in his chest that he does missing the last step on the 3rd floor staircase.  
  
Has he ruined everything?  Was it all in his head?  Does she hate him?

  
  
He cares.    
  
A lot.

 

He shouldn’t be doing this.   _Here_ , anyway.

 _Enough_.

  
  
His fingers flex against her skin, waiting.  He can’t bring himself to leave in case this is the last time he’s allowed so close.

She pushes her hand between her legs, moving her thighs apart so her fingers cover his.  Flesh on flesh on flesh.  He can barely breathe.  
  
“Here?” she whispers, more answer than question.

   
  
Answers come in all sorts though.

   
  
“I want you,” he breathes, because it’s honest and it’s the kind of man he is.  
  
She nods her head anyway, despite the warning.   
  
He needs her to know it too, to say it out loud because this has to be fast and dirty and they won’t ever get the chance to hold hands.

 

 _This is going to hurt_.

  
  
He goes to his knees, breaths hot in between her thighs, and hooks his fingers in the hole, pulling hard.  
  
She gasps as the fabric rips, the seam splitting so half of her ass and the tops of her thighs are exposed.  He’s glad she can’t see the way his fingers shake in anticipation.    
  
She makes to pull down her underwear, but he’s faster, tearing the elastic off with what remains of her tattered pantyhose.    
  
She leans forward on the desk, like in so many of his dreams, parting her thighs slightly before his fingers stroke over her-  
  
_Fuck-_

he thumbs her mercilessly, marvelling at the sounds she makes as his fingers slip inside.  He puts his left hand over her lower back to steady her, to steady himself, as he moves faster, opening her up.

  
_“Yes_ ,” she breathes, rolling her hips.  His wrist is killing him, but he doesn’t care.

  
When she moans he takes his left hand off her to unbutton his slacks, continuing his ministrations with his other hand.  

  
He struggles with the zipper, opening it just enough to stroke over his shaft.  Pre cum already drips from the head, and he swipes his hand up and down to prepare himself.  
  
He puts his mouth to her swollen cunt after pumping his fingers one last time, lapping up her wetness.  He groans, deep in his throat, as he moves his tongue, jacking himself off with one hand as the other clings to her ass.  
  
Her calves start to twitch which only spurs him on.

  
  
How many times had he dreamed about this?

How many times had _she_ …

 

Now, now,  _nownownow_ , it’s got to be _now-_

he stops, knowing she’s close, knowing they’ll die if he waits any longer, and gets up off his knees to stand at her entrance, his work attire not a thread out of place.

Like he’s not about to fuck the living hell out of her.  Like she’s not about to let him.   
  
He thrusts up into her, waiting a moment for her to accommodate him before beginning his strokes.  Her skirt falls back down, getting in the way again, so he pushes it up under her breasts, gripping her hips a moment later for purchase.  It’s hard and fast and rough; his hands knead her ass and her fingernails scrape on the desk, and he knows they’ll have bruises in the morning.  They don’t whisper in each other’s ears and they don’t caress each other’s faces because it’s all teeth and muscle and bones, clacking and colliding like a hurricane, intent on destruction.  

  
  
He _had_ warned her.

  
  
She turns her neck to look at him, and he gets that awful jolt in his chest again-  
  
_“Careful, Kougami-san!” she giggles, watching him come down that last step on the 3rd floor.  “You really will fall one day!”_  
  
-but he doesn’t look away, because they aren’t the type that get to hold hands.

  
  
He wishes he could take everything off like they’re supposed to, that he wasn’t standing in his leather shoes and that she wasn’t donning her blazer.  
  
He grunts, watching her back arch and her eyes close and her mouth fall open, the tidal wave demanding awe before it crashes onto shore.  
  
He surrenders.  
  
“Akane,” he says because he knows she can’t hear him.  

She clenches around him, riding it out, shaking and moaning: a force of nature.  He pounds into her a few more times, not allowing her to recover, and takes a few shallow breaths before turning her onto her back.  

She had never warned _him_ though, how she would look with sweat trickling down her neck, her thighs bent back, and her eyes burning with desire.

He’ll never forget this moment.  
  
_How beautiful_ -  
  
He strokes her clit, once, twice, before he rubs his cock up and down in between her folds.  
      
_Ask me_ , he thinks because he knows she can’t hear him.

She reaches for him absentmindedly (another rule broken), and he surges forward, making her cry out.  He pumps as hard and fast as he can, to remind her that they shouldn’t be doing this, to remind himself that this can never be.  It’s pants and groans and scratches and moans, need like nothing he’s ever imagined.

   
  
Need comes in all sorts though.

   
  
He thinks _this is it, this is all there is_ , but she brings him higher, to that sweet oblivion where they finally, f i n a l l y, crash - all blinding light and deafening heartbeats, the wreckage after the storm.  He cums inside her a moment later, unrelenting.   
  
Watching the cum drip from her slit, splattered a little bit on her stomach too, he resents the fact that they don’t have to worry.

No degenerates would ever get a chance at breeding, SYBIL saw to that.  Birth control was biologically activated at a woman’s first menstruation, implanted at birth with all other necessary vaccinations, and only deactivated after her and her partner applied at the Ministry of Health.  Child-rearing circumstances only; test tube babies too, if a couple wanted to adopt.  SYBIL selected your mate, the date, your fate, so Latent Criminals and Enforcers - who were deemed unworthy of all three - weren’t afforded the luxury.  
  
Killing the defective gene, so to speak.

  
  
He shouldn’t have cum on her like that; like some dog marking it’s territory for the world to see.  Out of spite.  Out of spite for SYBIL.  
  
Sort of.

He shouldn’t have loved her like that; like they had any chance at all.

 

He can barely breathe.

 

She doesn’t say anything, and he’s glad of it, because then they can pretend a little longer.

That this could be their Sunday mornings instead of some dirty, forbidden rendezvous.  
  
She exhales, sitting up so her face is inches from his chest.  
  
She doesn’t say anything, and he hates it.  
  
“What can I do?” he asks finally.  
  
She smiles, looking down at the cum on her stomach.  He isn’t sure how he feels about that.  
  
“Be ready for any calls we may get tomorrow, Enforcer,” she says, reaching to caress his face.

  
  
_One day_ , he thinks.  SYBIL won’t last forever.

  
  
-x-


End file.
